


Thump

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Biting, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWP, Rough Sex, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 08:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13498680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: On the road, Ignis goes into rut.





	Thump

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Big fan of the "composed character losing their composure in bed" trope, but I don't think I've seen this with Iggy in the context of omegaverse, so... Ignis goes into rut unexpectedly (for whatever reason: stress, bad reaction to rut suppressant, driven into it by Noct's heat) and, having had no time to prepare for it, just kinda loses it. It takes all his effort just to get the group to a hotel room, and once he gets Noct inside, he rips all his clothes off and goes to town (note: he actually rips them off, which clues Noct in on just how far gone Iggy is). I'd prefer Noct be an omega, but he doesn't necessarily have to be in heat. Whatever potential a!a might prefer. +++++ bonuses: they're both really loud in bed and Ignis is being particularly rough (Noct likes it though) +++++ multiple orgasms and short refractory in Ignis' case; for Noct too if he's in heat +++++ no condoms. Ignis' rut-clouded mind is telling him he needs to fill his mate with cum, and since he had no time to prepare he can't fight that urge” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7919918#cmt7919918).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The Regalia’s never felt so tense. Everyone can smell the telltale stench of Ignis’ impending rut, clouding over them like an ever-present fog. It makes Noctis feel hot beneath his clothes. He can see Prompto shivering beside him. For once, Gladiolus has taken the passenger seat, because Ignis can’t be trusted around omegas at the moment. He probably shouldn’t even be driving. But he told them, tight-lipped and inarguable, that he was fine. The car drives straight and steady. But Gladiolus keeps shooting him furtive glances, and Noctis knows that they’ll pull over at the first sign of trouble.

“What’s gonna happen?” Prompto whispers beneath the wind, drawing Noctis’ distracted gaze. Even when he looks at Prompto, all his focus is on _Ignis_ in his peripherals: the lean line of Ignis’ tall back, the well-groomed, coiffed hair ruffling with their speed, even the way his shoulders square above the seat. Prompto leans closer to ask, “Should we... y’know... _help_ him?”

It’s nice of Prompto to offer, but the idea of _sharing_ Ignis makes something ugly twist in Noctis’ chest. He mutters, “I’ll take care of it.” Prompto doesn’t look so sure, but Noctis’ level gaze is firm. Ignis has always been _his_ in one capacity or another, and out here, where suppressants aren’t always available and stress is a constant instigator, it’s still every bit as true. He knows that if the troubling combination forces out his own heat, Ignis will take perfect care of him.

Prompto looks like he wants to offer help, but he finally just shrugs and mutters, “Alright. I guess it shouldn’t be too hard, at least.” Noctis lifts a brow, and Prompto clarifies, “I mean, he’s so... I dunno, reserved? Even in rut, he’ll probably be all careful and proper about it. At least it wasn’t Gladio. Now _he’ll_ be a beast—I bet that’ll give us a run for our money.”

Noctis nods, but only at the second half. He doesn’t know what they’ll do if Gladiolus snaps. They’ll have to deal with it then.

In the meantime, the headlights finally wash over a camper on the outskirts of an outpost. Under normal circumstance, Prompto would probably be clamouring for a nice hotel, but no one protests as Ignis swerves the car over the worn dirt path beneath the camper. It jerks to a halt just a tad unsteadily. All four of them pour out. Prompto heads straight for the closed door, but Gladiolus grabs his wrist and shakes his head. Prompto makes a squawk of protest, then sees the fierce look on Gladiolus’ face and settles. Noctis is grateful for it. They can be quiet, he knows, maybe even subtle enough to let others sleep nearby, but that’s when the two of them are in full control, managed with suppressants and tucked away in the protection of the palace. Out here, dealing with a rut...

Noctis doesn’t know. But as Ignis walks straight to him and peers fiercely down into his waiting eyes, Noctis isn’t so sure that Prompto had the right idea. Ignis seems to struggle for words before managing, “Noct...”

Noctis just slips his hand into Ignis’. Ignis’ long fingers clasp around his palm and squeeze just a bit too tightly, caressing the back of his knuckles just a bit possessively. Noctis stays determined and tugs Ignis by it back around the car. Then they’re walking through the darkness up to the camper. The latch reads empty. Ignis stiffly adds thirty gil to the locking mechanism, and it clicks open for them. Noctis climbs inside. 

Ignis shoves him right between the shoulder blades, and he stumbles suddenly, catching himself against the driver seat before he can fall to the floor. Ignis comes quickly in behind him, securing the door again, and leaving Noctis to wonder whether the other two are going to crash in the car or make the short walk into the outpost. He hopes the later. He has a feeling Prompto was very, very wrong. And the walls of the camper don’t look thick enough to mask that.

Ignis steps up behind him, wraps an arm around his waist, and bends down to breathe across his ear, “You smell absolutely _delicious_ , Your Highness.” There’s something off about the way Ignis says his title. Ignis’ normally smooth voice is gravelly and rough, tone husky and sultry, full of subtle promise. Noctis doesn’t have a chance to quip so much as ‘thank you.’

He’s spun abruptly around, an iron-tight grip around his arm, and then Ignis is jerking him close and shoving their mouths together. Noctis is absolutely _devoured_. Ignis plunges a hot tongue between his lips and stabs so far that Noctis nearly chokes, his body trembling as Ignis claims him, the heady _alpha_ pheromones thickening all around him. Ignis extends the brutal kiss, then parts them to wrench off Noctis’ jacket. Noctis is still reeling from the kiss, which leaves him an easy puppet for Ignis to strip down. The jacket’s tossed aside, and he jerks Noctis’ shirt up so hard that it actually rips, the seam splitting down the side. Ignis tears the rags away and drops it to the floor, his hands darting to Noctis’ pants as his hungry eyes roam Noctis’ chest. Noctis is completely dazed.

He’s sure Ignis has broken the zipper when he grabs Noctis’ fly, and it leaves Noctis scrambling to push his own pants down, boxers going with them, feet tripping out of his boots—there’s no time for embarrassment or modesty, not if he wants clothes to actually wear tomorrow. The irony isn’t lost on him. Ignis is usually the one to _repair_ Noctis’ torn things, and that he’d break them now shows how far the rut has taken him. Noctis shivers from that alone. He isn’t cold as he steps out of his clothes, utterly naked, because Ignis’ touch is quick and hot. Ignis is swiftly around him again, grinning in sick satisfaction and hissing, “ _Beautiful_.” 

Noctis tries to answer, “Thanks—” but he’s cut off by Ignis’ tongue. Ignis’ hands seem to come from everywhere at once, suddenly all over him, pawing at every last centimeter of skin. Ignis kisses him so hard that Noctis is forced to stutter backwards, one step after the other, as Ignis only increases in ferocity and drives him towards the back.

His knees hit something stiff, and he’s shoved backwards—he lands atop a narrow mattress, and before he can register the configuration of the camper’s bed, Ignis is descending on him. Ignis grabs Noctis’ legs and hikes them up, maneuvering him lengthwise on it and guiding him into place. Ignis even turns him over, pushing at his shoulder and pulling him up onto all fours.

Under most circumstances, Noctis is hardly an _easy_ omega—he’s a prince, and though he’s certainly not spoiled, nor does he offer helpless submission. He’s been known to bark at alphas right back. But not usually Ignis. And not now, with Ignis so strangely _dominant_ , his demanding hands molding Noctis to his whims. Ignis smells so _good_ that it’s difficult for Noctis to resist, and he doesn’t want to anyway—Ignis is always so very good for him. So he returns the favour. He lets Ignis set him up like a good little omega, on hands and knees with his legs spread wide, ass presented for his alpha’s taking. Noctis can already feel the moisture beading inside his channel. He’s always wet for Ignis.

Ignis usually prepares him anyway. Ignis thrusts one finger into him now, full-on without any warning, and Noctis cries out both from surprise and the feeling of it—a long, unrelenting digit plugging up his hole. He tries to twitch and part himself, loosening as quickly as he can, but it doesn’t seem enough for Ignis. Ignis rubs at Noctis’ shivering insides and shoves another finger in. Ignis scissors him purposefully and notes, almost idly but dark, “So _tight_... you always have had such a lovely rear, Noct...”

Noctis babbles, “Thank you, alpha,” before he can stop himself, then corrects through hissed breath, “ _Ignis_.” He isn’t in heat, not yet, and at least _one_ of them should retain their minds. But he doesn’t know how long he’ll last with Ignis fingering him so expertly. He wouldn’t be surprised if he lapsed into heat before the rut’s end—there’s something strangely sensual about a commanding Ignis.

Ignis looms over him and adds a third finger, twisting it almost cruelly inside. Noctis cries out again, writhing on the sheets—if Gladiolus and Prompto are indeed waiting in the car, they’re probably going to get an earful. Noctis bites his bottom lip and _tries_ to keep it down, but then Ignis is fingering him in _just_ the right spot, and he becomes a whimpering mess that’s thrusting back onto his alpha’s hand. He can hear Ignis breathing almost as raggedly as him.

Ignis wrenches those torturous fingers out none too gently, and then he’s mounting Noctis like a dog, and the spongy, bulbous tip of Ignis’ cock nudges at his hole. Noctis braces himself and looks back over his shoulder.

Ignis is still fully dressed, pants unzipped just enough to manage, and his eyes glimmer behind his glasses through the darkness of the camper. It occurs to Noctis that they probably should’ve hit the lights. Instead, starlight through the wide windows is all there is to show the absolutely feral look on Ignis’ handsome face, normally so poised, and now consumed with _hunger_.

Ignis pushes forward all at once and roars loud enough to drown out Noctis’ screams. Ignis’ shaft pops inside, then thrusts in, deep and merciless, eating Noctis up from the very start. It shocks Noctis enough to tense him up for half a second—Ignis has always been _so gentle_ , has always let him adjust before sinking any deeper, but this time, there’s no stopping Ignis’ eager cock. It fills Noctis up more than he thought he could take, engorged from the rut and seeming to throb inside him, fire-hot and steel-stiff. Noctis would probably collapse down to the mattress if Ignis weren’t over him, bracing him in place. One of Ignis’ arms snakes around his middle, pinning his back to Ignis’ taut chest, while the other hand lands atop his own. Completely buried in Noctis’ quivering channel, Ignis makes a pleased, “Mmmm...” noise.

Then he shoves his hips hard enough forward that Noctis screams again, already overcome. Ignis holds steady and withdraws, only to pound back inside, and Noctis’ lungs are too sore to do it again. But Ignis repeats himself. Ignis pulls out just enough to drive Noctis mad from loss and dives back in like the beast they all thought exclusive to Gladiolus. Somehow, even with all of Gladiolus bulging muscles and masculine stench, Noctis doubts he could fuck anyone as hard as Ignis fucks Noctis now. 

Ignis is absolutely brutal. He takes Noctis at a merciless pace, pumping him full only to leave him achingly empty, then gracing him again with only a split second in between. His cock’s never felt so _massive_ as it does now, filling Noctis to his core. But Noctis likes it that way. He likes the way Ignis fucks him like an animal, all caution and decorum thrown right to the wind. Noctis is aware he’s spilling a multitude of wrecked noises around his panting gasps for breath, but he can’t himself—it’s hard to be anything but horribly _loud_ when his alpha’s so virile. Ignis snarls even louder than him, and then Ignis’ mouth is at his throat, and Noctis knows he’s done for.

Ignis bites down like going for the kill. His blunt teeth clamp on just short of piercing the skin, but Noctis still knows his neck will be raw and red tomorrow—all over, because Ignis doesn’t stop, just mouths at him and drags one wide bite towards the back. Ignis covers his neck and shoulders in the hard grooves of teeth marks, while Noctis trembles and nearly cries. His naked body sweats profusely under Ignis’ abuse, his eyes stinging purely from over stimulation. He might as well be in heat for how thoroughly Ignis claims him. And Ignis still paws at his body the entire time, not wasting a moment.

Noctis’ nipples are tugged raw. Ignis pinches them, pulls them, claws all across Noctis’ breast, until both nipples are horribly sore and so erect they may as well be weighted down. Ignis scratches across his stomach and marks up his thighs, then _finally_ grabs his cock, and Noctis really does choke back a sob. Ignis jerks it once and orders, “Come.”

Noctis, always the one before to give that order, instantly obeys. His body seizes up, eager to please his alpha, and he lets himself spill over Ignis’ hand and down onto the mattress. Ignis pumps it out and fucks him right through it. Soon, Noctis is too dizzy to stay up. He slumps in Ignis’ arms. Ignis still fucks him.

But Ignis, at least, lets him drop onto the pillow. His ass stays high up in the air, chest arched down as his upper body rests. Not that there’s any true rest. Not while Ignis is inside him. Once his head comes down just enough to think even semi-straight, he has the blurry thought that they should probably use a condom. But it’s too late. He can feel Ignis’ knot swelling at the base of his mammoth cock, and Noctis makes no protest as it plugs him up. The burn of it against his battered hole makes him whimper and whine, but Ignis doesn’t slow. He drags Noctis up and down the mattress as he goes, and then, with a growl that would bring any monster to its knees, Ignis comes inside him. Noctis gets a giddy sort of pleasure out of feeling his alpha’s cum fill his insides. Ignis pounds it right in, even bending down to hold them flush together. 

Even when Ignis is finished, there’s no rest. Ignis’ cock doesn’t soften. His knot doesn’t recede. He simply pauses his hips long enough to grab Noctis’ leg and turn him over—Noctis is rolled onto his back, still awkwardly impaled on his alpha’s dick. When they’re facing one another, Ignis comes down into his arms, now chest to chest. Noctis tugs tiredly at Ignis’ shirt. Ignis ignores it and kisses him hard enough to bruise. 

When the kiss ends, Ignis growls, “Noct... you’re _mine._ ” Noctis knows it’s two words more than most alphas in rut usually manage. Noctis just weakly nods. He has a feeling they’ll be up all night—or at least, Ignis will. Noctis thinks he’ll probably wind up passing out, still joined and full of alpha cock, only to be fucked awake again. The thought makes him shiver with a strange sort of naughty pleasure. Ignis takes a moment to gently caress his face, reminding Noctis that his loving advisor is still in there, deep beneath the sex-starved monster.

Then Ignis slams forward to claim him again, and Noctis sets in to enjoy the ride.


End file.
